


Cosmic World

by ryukoishida



Series: Cosmic Love [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, soulmate tattoo au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the birthday of the year that you will meet your soulmate, a hint of a tattoo will appear. As the fateful day drifts closer, that tattoo will become clearer and it will be the first words your soulmate will say to you. On Haruka Nanase’s 20th birthday, he finds the shadow of inked lines on the inside of his wrist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosmic World

            Haruka Nanase doesn’t believe in fate; he doesn’t believe in love at first sight, either, or the fact that there’s only one person out there in the world who is a perfect match for him. He only believes in taking matters into his own hands, and if he’s going to defy all this comic destiny nonsense just so he can be with the one he loves, then so be it. But as it stands for now, Haruka has no one like that in his life, so he doesn’t ponder on it too much.

 

            However, on the morning of his twentieth birthday, as he soaks in his bathtub like he does any other day before he gets ready for his classes, something on his arm catches his immediate attention, and upon closer inspection, his heart drops with trepidation.

 

            On the inside of his right wrist, though very faint and barely visible, a tiny curled line that looks like it’s been drawn by a black-inked pen marks his tanned skin. He rubs at it with the tip of his thumb, first softly, and when it’s not coming off, the man puts a dollop of soap on that spot and rubs at it with more force, adding nails this time as he attempts to scrape the blotch off, as if it was a dirty stain that he wants nothing more than to be rid of.

 

            After rinsing his lower arm in the cool water and the foam clears away, Haruka frowns with dismay at the distinct sign of a tattoo stained indefinitely on his reddened skin, and sighs; he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes as if that alone can shut out everything around him, and slinks into the comforting embrace of the lukewarm water.

 

            The day – or as it is, the year – is finally here.

 

-

 

            “Haru-chan, what’s that on your wrist?”

 

            Before Haruka has the sense to move out of the way, his childhood friend since elementary school has a firm hold of his arm, an almost manic and eager glint flashing across his cerise eyes as his gaze shifts downwards to get a better look.

 

            “It’s nothing,” Haruka tries to wretch his arm out of Nagisa’s grasp, but the small, blond man has surprising strength when it comes to certain things, and these “certain things” apparently include poking his nose into other people’s – namely Haruka’s – business.

 

            “It’s _so_ not nothing!” The blond cries out, eyes widening in obvious excitement while he traces the outline of the half-formed words tattooed on his friend’s skin. “It’s your tattoo, Haru-chan! That means—”

 

             “I know what it means, Nagisa,” Haruka exhales impatiently, snatching his arm back and pulling his shirt sleeve down to cover up the words for good measure. The colour has turned much starker over the three months since its appearance. Haruka has long given up the idea of erasing the tattoo, only promising himself that he will never let some organic ink determined by some sort of pre-ordained celestial power sway him into falling in love with a person he finds no interest in.

 

            It’s merely an ugly marring on his skin; why does it hold the power to control the path of his life?

 

            “What does it say?” Nagisa wants to know.

 

            “Nagisa-kun,” the blue-haired man standing next to the blond puts a steady hand on his shoulder, “If Haruka-senpai doesn’t want to talk about it, maybe it’s best we leave it be.”

 

            “You should listen to Rei more often, Nagisa. He’s your _soulmate_ after all,” Haruka places a stressed accent of distaste on that particular word, and both Nagisa and Rei wince at the poisonous tone.

 

            Ever since the appearance of his tattoo two years ago – on one of his shoulder blades so Haruka still doesn’t know what the words are that Rei first said to his friend to this day, but it’s better to keep it that way, Haruka supposes – Nagisa couldn’t shut up about it, and when he finally met Rei Ryuugazaki, a seemingly solemn man who dons a pair of red-rimmed glasses, in one of his mandatory math classes at the university, the two had been inseparable.

 

            Haruka is genuinely happy for them; he is. He could see how much they care for each other, and how much they enjoy each other’s company whenever they’re together. Once, he asked Nagisa what it had felt like when Rei first said to him those same words that had been tattooed on his skin for months.

 

             “Did it feel like lightning struck your heart? Or… you know, anything dramatic like that?” and the blond just looks at him with his head slightly tilted to the side, a rare, quiet smile settles on his lips.

 

            “It’s… kind of difficult to explain,” he told him sheepishly. “You’ll know when you meet the person.”

 

            Nagisa’s vague reply did not satisfy him at all. But as the days, and then months fly by faster than he can remember, what with his busy schedule at school and swim meets, the tattoo becomes more and more clear everyday, the impression of the words more prominent, as if mocking him with its elegant script and its impossible inevitability.

 

            Though Haruka dreads to admit it, the meeting is unavoidable.

 

-

 

            “It’s going to be one of these days, huh, Makoto?” Rin asks as he helps Ren put on his goggles while the boy is trying to wriggle out of the red-haired man’s hold, too thrilled at the sight of the swimming pool to stand still.

 

            “I think so,” Makoto replies, tying Ran’s hair up into a ponytail, his hand weaving in smooth, practiced movements.

 

            “Seems like one of those pessimistic types though,” Rin raises one of his thin brows as he remembers the words that his friend has shown him the other day, the sharp, jagged scrawl an angry exclamation of skepticism. Makoto doesn’t answer, his green eyes only concentrating on his sister, and Rin shrugs. When he’s sure the goggles aren’t too tight on the boy’s head, he taps Ren’s shoulder to get his attention, signalling that he’s allowed to go.

 

            “All done,” Makoto smiles, pulling on Ran’s ponytail teasingly; his sister turns around and sticks her tongue out at him in response. “Ran, Ren, you two stick together and _no running_ , got it?” He’s using his big brother voice, so the twins nod solemnly as is expected of them before breaking into a speed-walk, heading towards the tallest waterslide in the room.

 

            “I think I’ll have enough optimism for the both of us,” Makoto chuckles lightly as he touches the inked words over his left collar bone like he has already done so many times over the past few months before letting his arm drop to his side.

 

            “That’s certainly true,” Rin rolls his eyes good-naturedly but gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go make sure those little monsters aren’t causing any trouble.”

 

            On the other side of the pool, Haruka is swimming his fifteenth lap, the serene, almost-silence of being underwater and the cacophony of screaming children and concerned parents as he comes up for half a second to gulp down air are repetitive and calming, distracting him momentarily from the slow smouldering of his right wrist.

 

            He can already read all the words that are supposedly the first ones his soulmate will say to him when they meet. But they hardly make any sense, Haruka’s brows frown in confusion. Though befuddled by the seemingly random statement stamped on his skin, Haruka disregards the idea of asking for Nagisa’s opinion almost as soon as he thinks of it. He’s desperate for answers, but not desperate enough to get pestered by the at times over-zealous blond.

 

            Regardless, for the past few days, the mark has been pulsing in warmth that’s just slightly on the side of uncomfortable but not painful enough to actually be called a burning sensation. He wonders if it’s a sign that the day is at long last here.

 

            Haruka figures that swimming would be a perfect diversion, the looping thoughts and never-ending questions like “what kind of person does the universe provide me with in this lifetime?” and “what if we hate each other?” melt into the water the instant he pushes his limbs through the reassuring pressure, the cycle having thankfully ceased for the time being.

 

            To Haruka’s dismay, however, that doesn’t last as long as he’s hoped.

 

            “Get out of the lane!” Someone’s yelling, a deep, frantic voice filled with concern and urgency coming from the direction somewhere up ahead of Haruka at the edge of the pool. He doesn’t have time to consider whether the warning is for him or some other unfortunate swimmer – except ‘Wait, did he just say—?’ and ‘Oh.’ – before something heavy collides with him solidly from above.

 

            He hears a splash, a child’s terrified scream, a sharp pain on his back, and then everything is swallowed by silence in the blue, air bubbles escaping from his throat and into the water that embraces him.

 

            He didn’t have a chance to take a breath before whoever fell into the pool had knocked him further down into the water.

 

            As he sinks deeper, his arm reaching up for the luminosity of the surface that keeps escaping through his fingertips, slivers of cerulean light darken. A shadow is descending, but Haruka’s tired, the throbbing pain on his upper back seems to have travelled to his head and he just wants to let his eyes close – let the darkness consume him.

 

            Before he lost himself, Haruka feels fingers encircling his right wrist, pulling him up. Towards the dazzling light. Towards the air. And the tattoo that has been branded on his skin since last June burns one last time before ebbing away like a spirit finally ready to move on.

 

            “Shit, is he okay?” Rin crouches down beside Makoto, who has placed the unconscious man down carefully, a small crowd has gathered around them and Ren huddles close to Rin’s arm, his guilty gaze straying down towards the tiled floor while his twin sister holds his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

 

            After Ren has fallen with an alarmed screech that echoed through out the room, to which Makoto instantaneously reacted by jumping into the pool after his younger brother and managed to scoop him out, the child holding on to him so tightly that Makoto could hardly breathe. He kept muttering, “I’m sorry onii-chan, I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to run, but— ”

 

            “Shh, Ren, it’s fine,” Makoto patted his back in a soothing, circular motion, calming the hysterical boy down. “Are you hurt?”

 

            When his brother shook his head, Makoto released a breath of relief, and then he remembered. “Where’s he?”

 

            Makoto swore he saw a dark-haired man hovering close to the side of the pool where Ren had fallen. Panic reflected in his green eyes, and when he saw a figure at the bottom of the water a few meters away, he knew what he had to do. “Ren, go find Rin nii-chan. I’ll be right back.”

 

            Now, as Makoto kneels by the motionless figure, droplets of chlorinated water burning his eyes like tears, he places a gentle hand on the man’s cheek. His skin is unbearably cold.

 

            “Can you hear me?” He taps a little harder and repeats the question. Among the hushed noise of the crowd that still surrounds them (‘Why won’t they leave?’ Makoto thinks irritably and tries to remember all the things he’d learned from the lifeguard course he took a year ago. And why can’t he remember anything right now?), he can only see the man before him, his lips full but pale and lashes long but eyes shut. He wonders what colour his eyes may be.

 

            ‘Check his heartbeat,’ he tells himself, and Makoto follows the instruction on autopilot, placing his ear right above his heart. It’s a steady, calming rhythm.

 

            'Breathing,' he brings his ear to the man's slightly parted lips, and even though it’s feeble, there are definitely small puffs of warm air being exhaled against Makoto's skin.  
  
            Just when the lifeguard on duty starts to shoo the people away, including Makoto who has refused to leave the nameless man's side, the figure on the floor shudders and convulses, fingers gathering into fists as he begins to cough violently.  
  
            Makoto quickly helps him sit up, a hand supporting his lower back as he continues to forcefully cough out the excess water he'd swallowed. As his breathing gradually returns to normal, his chest not heaving as profoundly as before (not that Makoto is checking out his chest or abdomen or anything of the like), Makoto chances to ask, "Are you alright?"  
  
            The man stills when he hears the question – his voice – and Makoto glances down at him in concern, worried that there's something wrong.  
  
            The black-haired stranger slowly looks up, eyes narrowing in silent suspicion, and Makoto can't help but marvel at the sharp blue of the man's irises – the shade so much like the ocean he both fears and loves.  
  
            He would keep thinking up ridiculous similes about the man's beautiful eyes, like the romantic fool that he is, except the man looks like he wants to cut him more than anything, if the ironic twist of his lips and the unfriendly glare he's sending Makoto's way are any indication.  
  
             “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't believe in soulmates." His cold and collected voice is nothing like Makoto has imagined coming out of his mouth; it's nothing like he'd imagined but it's close to what he'd expected.  
  
            "I know," Makoto smiles evenly, his green eyes warm despite of the man's icy first words to him. "It's been engraved on me since November." He traces the familiar words on his collar bone and the man's eyes follow the movement, dazed for a short moment before he snaps to it.  
  
            "So you know it's not going to work out between us," he says, an arm raised to wipe the water droplets off his cheek while not so subtly moving away from the brunet's proximity. Makoto understands his intention and doesn't stop him.  
  
            "Why don't we let the paramedics take a look at you first before we decide on our wedding plans?"  
  
            Haruka almost chokes again at his comment, his mouth opening and closing helplessly like a fish on shore and out of its element but no sounds can find their way out. Standing by the closest wall, Rin snickers in good humour, "Nice one, Makoto." He merely shakes his head at his friend, which only causes the red-head to guffaw louder.  
  
            The dark-haired man turns to glare at him and Rin shuts up, secretly impressed that there's someone whose stare can rival his own, though the two children huddling by his side keep on giggling and honestly, Haruka has neither the energy nor the cause to intimidate kids at this very moment.  
  
            "Makoto Tachibana," he holds out his hand: calloused, large and encompassing. Haruka glances up through his wet locks, eyes wary as his gaze shifts between his offered hand and those kind, green eyes that somehow remind him of the beginning of spring. It doesn't look like the man's going to budge unless he at least gives him his name.  
  
            "Haruka Nanase," he takes his hand without looking at him and let the brunet pull him to his feet.  
  
            "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." The sincerity of his baritone voice catches Haruka off guard, and when their hands release from each other's, there's an emptiness that instantly settles heavily on his chest.  
  
            Haruka doesn't like the fact that this stupid inked scrawl that forever mars his body will also tarnish his destiny. But he despises the tenuous feeling of loss that tears at his heart when he's physically away – even mere centimetres away – from this man he barely knows even more.  
  
            Is this what it feels like to be tied to another human being by an invisible red thread? Haruka rubs at the tattoo subconsciously by habit.  
  
            The man –Makoto Tachibana, he remembers the name now branded into his memory – and his friend along with the two children he saw are walking away into the change room, it seems, and just when Haruka wonders if they'd ever meet again, the brunet turns around, not quite fully but enough for Haruka to notice that he's probably looking for him, and when their eyes meet once more – vibrant green on startled blue – he gives Haruka a slight wave with a half-smile on his lips before he disappears behind the swinging doors.  
  
            Haruka's certain that they will find each other again, whether he likes it or not. They are meant to be soulmates after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I might do a sequel to this because it’s been really fun writing this AU.


End file.
